


Unbridled

by sciencefictioness



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Anonymous Sex, Breeding Kink, Brief Jesse/Jack, Dom Jesse, Jesse Is A Service Top And I'll Die On This Hill, M/M, Objectification, Pony Play But Only Sort Of, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Sub Genji, Sub Jack, also a little bit of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-11-29 14:05:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18224138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciencefictioness/pseuds/sciencefictioness
Summary: “Gonna take this off you, okay?”  Jesse asks, and he nods.“Please.”Jesse pulls the hood off, and freezes.The sub has bright green hair, soaked in sweat like all the rest of him, strands sticking up in every direction.  He’s smiling; a euphoric, incandescent thing, teeth white and eyes glittering.  He laughs once, head thrown back, running a palm down his face like he’s overwhelmed and trying to steady himself.When he glances over at Jesse he raises his brows.“Can I get some water?”Jesse flushes.  It’s bad enough to get caught staring by Rein and Baptiste when no one is paying him any attention.It’s much worse now, a wry grin stretching over the sub’s face as Jesse fetches him a cold bottle of water from the mini-fridge and hands it to him.  Jesse sits down beside him, watching him take messy swallows of the water; some of it trickles down his chin and over his collarbones.Jesse follows the drops with his eyes, helpless to do anything else.  Closes them.  Takes a deep breath, lets it out.Opens them again with an embarrassed sort of smile.“You havin’ fun out there, beautiful?”  Jesse asks, and the sub wipes at his chin and smiles back.





	1. Reined

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roughlycut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roughlycut/gifts).



> Happy early birthday Silas, I love you!
> 
> I cannot take credit for coming up with this premise, because it is based on a real event, at a real kink club. I cannot even really take credit for the idea of the mcgenjis being inserted into the scenario, because that was also Silas, who, like the hero he is, is always there to say 'but what if mcgenji'. This isn't... precisely sane, as far as SSC goes, but it is RACK and that's good enough for me. Mind the tags and enjoy.

By the time he’s through sorting out the stallions, the mares are ready in the paddock.  

 

Baptiste nods at him from the other side of the room.  Lúcio echoes the movement behind the bar, readying empty glasses and water bottles.  Reinhardt is close by him and he nods as well, tilting his head towards the doors in agreement.  The other stable boys are milling around with nothing to do until Jesse sets the stallions loose.  

 

They’ve already made sure the stocks and breeding benches are properly secured to the floor, and stocked the bar and tables.  Bowls full of condoms, individually wrapped packages of gloves and lube, cups with permanent black markers. They helped the mares into place and secured them, ensuring they were comfortable.  Everyone working the event is a volunteer; they’re here because they want to be, not because they have to be. 

 

Rein wouldn’t be giving him the go-ahead if they hadn’t double checked everything, but Jesse lets his eyes rove over them anyway, making sure everyone is ready.

 

All of the mares are hooded— some wearing leather masks they’ve brought from home, while others have sack hoods made of cloth provided by the club.  A couple are in pony play gear; one with a leather horse head, the other in a blindfold with a set of blinders over it, a bit fit snugly in his teeth.  Both of them have donned boots made to look like hooves, walking on their toes with their heels in the air. Jesse can’t help but be happy for them.

 

Stallion Night only happens a few times a year.

 

They’re all cuffed as well, some of them with their wrists bound to hooks set high on pieces of dungeon furniture, others with their head and hands fed through the openings on the stocks, or bent over breeding benches.  There are more mares than last time Jesse participated; well over a dozen, several with tattoos that Jesse doesn’t remember seeing before tonight. 

 

One is especially eye-catching, muscled and lean with an elaborate green dragon sprawled over his ribs on the right side, tail curling around his upper thigh and a snarling face looming large between his shoulder blades.  His cuffs are green on black, ankle cuffs fastened over the leather of his knee-high boots, a cloth hood covering his head. Black polish on his nails. Scars Jesse can only pick out from so far away because he’s so used to seeing his own.  His back is littered with them; his biceps, his thighs. He’s on his hands and knees on one of the padded benches, cheek resting on the surface as he waits patiently.

 

Jesse has a momentary pang of regret that he’s a stable boy this evening, as opposed to a stallion, but he shakes it away.  

 

The aftercare is usually his favorite part of a scene.  He likes taking care of subs, likes making sure they’re happy and hydrated and feeling nice, and there is rarely a better a chance to indulge himself.  He’d much rather have helped the mares get ready than give the stallions a speech about safety, and etiquette, and consent, but someone had to do it and Jesse had drawn the short straw.

 

He isn’t the only one who prefers dealing with the subs.  They’d bickered about who had to go get the Doms lined out, but now everything and everyone is ready, and it’s time to get things started.

 

If only Jesse could stop staring at this pretty sub in black and green with his long fingers and his myriad of scars and his dragon tattoo.

 

Reinhardt pointedly clears his throat, nodding towards the doors again, a smirk on his face.  Jesse flushes at being caught staring and looks away, adjusting his hat and heading over to the doors to open them wide.  

 

The stallions come in, dressed in all manner of outfits— uniforms, bulldog harnesses, latex, leather.  Some of them make a beeline to the bar to get drinks, while others immediately head out into the paddock to take a look at the mares; they waste no time before getting started.

 

Someone is knuckle deep in the sub with the dragon tattoo within minutes; Jesse isn’t surprised.

 

Everyone has their own tastes, but he has a feeling that one will be busy all night long.  These Doms all have eyes, and he is very easy on them.

 

There are more Doms than subs, which is typical, but it’s never really been a problem.  The mares tend to have more stamina. Everyone will get their turn.

 

Jesse slips out onto the main floor of the club to keep an eye on things, moving from one pair to the next.

 

And if it’s an especially nice show, well.

 

Jesse is earning his keep.

 

-

 

An hour into things the crowd has thinned out some.  Many of the mares tap out after a couple of rounds, along with some of the stallions.  

 

Most of the Doms stay, drinking and watching the others who are still at it.  The subs are escorted outside through the break room when they are done to maintain anonymity, for both themselves and the Doms they’ve been with over the course of the evening.  It’s part of the allure for a lot of the participants; fucking a faceless stranger who they never have to see again.

 

Jesse doesn’t get it, exactly, but he’s glad everyone is having fun.  Not that he isn’t enjoying himself.

 

He’s been watching the sub with the dragon tattoo like a hawk all night long, but he never seems to tire.  Doms have been passing him around with blatant favoritism, and Jesse can’t help but stare as they lock him into the stocks or string him up by his wrists.  Bend him over bales of hay and fuck him until he’s boneless. Shove him down on benches and take turns breeding him. He’s relishing every moment of it if the sounds he’s making are anything to go by, enthusiastic moans and hissed profanity.

 

It’s hard to look away, but if it’s weird to be so fixated on one particular sub no one calls him out on it.

 

Jesse has taken several weary subs to the break room so far, letting them drink water or juice and catch their breath.  Most of them have tally marks on their ass, Doms putting a slash on each sub they fuck. A few are content with a quick break to hydrate themselves and rest.  A couple decide to call it a night and leave, weary but no worse for wear.

 

Jesse walks them out, and winks, and tells them to have sweet dreams.

 

Others need more than that; they’re tactile, and affectionate.  Drunk on endorphins, floating deep in subspace. Those are Jesse’s favorites.  He cuddles them close, and pets their hair, and whispers to them softly. Tells them how good they’re doing, how gorgeous they look out there, how pleased the Doms who’ve fucked them are when they’re finished.  He coaxes them into drinking water, holding the bottle as they press their lips to the rim and swallow. It’s nothing out of the ordinary.

 

Jesse with a spacey sub on his lap is a frequent sight, even on regular nights at the club.  

 

He’s only just brought one of the mares back onto the floor and fastened them into place on a wall hook when Reinhardt gets his attention.

 

“Hey cowboy!  Got another one for you!”

 

Jesse glances up to see Rein standing next to the sub with the dragon tattoo.   He’s back on the breeding bench where he started, left arm lifted so Rein can unclip his cuff.  Rein grins at Jesse as he walks over to them; he can’t help it. 

 

He’s staring again.

 

There’s lube all over the inside of the sub’s thighs, shining on his boots where it’s dripped onto them, streaked messy over his hip.  There are seven tally marks slashed on his ass in black marker, one of them smudged a bit at the top. He’s still on his hands and knees, hips arched high, the bench forcing him into an exposed position.

 

Jesse’s eyes are drawn to the curve of his ass, the splay of his thighs.  The sub is gaping a little, so well fucked he’s visibly open. Wet with lube, thoroughly used; Jesse’s fingers would slide in effortlessly.

 

He could push his cock against the sub, and he’d take every inch of Jesse as easy as breathing.  

 

Reinhardt pointedly clears his throat, and Jesse blinks himself out of his reverie, and unclips the subs ankle cuffs.  Rein wanders off with a smirk to check on another participant, leaving Jesse to his work. 

 

“Ready to sit up?”  

 

The sub hums out an agreement, and Jesse takes his arm and helps him off the bench.  He’s wobbly on his feet, thighs trembling and cock hanging spent between his legs. Every inch of him is soaked in sweat, skin shining with it.  Jesse’s hands slide on him as he tries to help guide the sub towards the break room, but he stumbles, falling into Jesse with grunt. Jesse catches him, holding him upright.

 

“Want me to carry you, sweetheart?”

 

The sub huffs a laugh.

 

“Can you?” 

 

“Certainly can.  Here.” Jesse bends down and guides the sub’s arm around his neck, looping his own under the sub’s shoulder blades.  “Up you go.” He hooks his other under his knees and scoops him up; he’s not light by any means, but this is exactly why Jesse has kept up with his training, even after retiring from the military.

 

Being able to pick up his good boys and carry them around is non-negotiable, and as much as Jesse hates running and lifting weights, it is well worth it in the end.

 

The sub tucks his hooded face into Jesse’s shoulder and they make their way to the break room, closing the door behind them and passing through a heavy curtain into a dimly lit area full of leather couches and chairs.  Jesse gingerly sets the sub down on a wide couch, careful to move slow. He’s probably so full of endorphins right now he’s feeling no pain, but Jesse doesn’t want to risk being rough with him when he’s been put through the ringer already.  He sits next to him, unfastening the velcro straps on the bottom of his hood.  
  


 

“Gonna take this off you, okay?”  Jesse asks, and he nods.

 

“Please.”

 

Jesse pulls the hood off, and freezes.

 

The sub has bright green hair, soaked in sweat like all the rest of him, strands sticking up in every direction.  He’s smiling; a euphoric, incandescent thing, teeth white and eyes glittering. He laughs once, head thrown back, running a palm down his face like he’s overwhelmed and trying to steady himself.  

 

When he glances over at Jesse he raises his brows.

 

“Can I get some water?”

 

Jesse flushes.  It’s bad enough to get caught staring by Rein and Baptiste when no one is paying him any attention.

 

It’s much worse now, a wry grin stretching over the sub’s face as Jesse fetches him a cold bottle of water from the mini-fridge and hands it to him.  Jesse sits down beside him, watching him take messy swallows of the water; some of it trickles down his chin and over his collarbones.

 

Jesse follows the drops with his eyes, helpless to do anything else.  Closes them. Takes a deep breath, lets it out.

 

Opens them again with an embarrassed sort of smile.

 

“You havin’ fun out there, beautiful?”  Jesse asks, and the sub wipes at his chin and smiles back.

 

“Genji.  Beautiful works too, though,” he adds, grin going crooked.  “And god, yes. Most fun I’ve had in ages.”

 

“Glad to hear it.  I’m Jesse. You want something besides water?  Some juice, something to eat?”

 

“I’d take some orange juice, if you have it.  Jesse,” he adds, biting his lip suggestively and giving Jesse a wink.

 

Jesse gets it for him, cracking open the cap and passing it over.  Genji downs half the bottle, still breathing hard when he puts the lid back on and sets it down.  He leans back against the cushions with a sigh, looking a bit lost. 

 

“Take as much time as you need.  You think you’re heading back out there, or is this you calling it a night?  Not that you have to decide right now.” 

 

Genji shakes his head.

 

“I am  _ definitely  _ not calling it a night.  There’s not another one of these for what, three months?”

 

“Four,” Jesse says, and Genji gestures vaguely towards the main floor.

 

“FOUR!  That’s too long!  Gotta milk it for all it’s worth, yeah?”

 

Jesse nods.

 

“I suppose you do.  You need somethin’ to eat?  There’s a bathroom over there if you wanna wash up any, got a shower and towels and all,” Jesse says, and Genji shakes his head.  “Alright, well, you let me know if you change your mind and need some help, or if there’s anything else I can do for you.”

 

He doesn’t mean to pitch his voice low, or rake his gaze up and down Genji with such obvious interest, but he doesn’t manage to stop himself, either.  Genji’s eyes narrow on him, roving across Jesse as he licks over his teeth.

 

“Oh?  Tell me all about what you can do for me, Jesse” he says, every word heavy with innuendo as he leans further into Jesse’s space.  Jesse smiles ruefully, and shakes his head.

 

“Nah, nothing like that.  Much as I’d like to, because you are,” Jesse looks Genji up and down again, whistling low, “fuckin’ stunning, doll face, I can’t tonight.  Stable boys don’t play. Just here to take care of y’all, make sure the stallions behave themselves, keep everything safe and consensual and all that jazz.  But if you want some hands on care you’re welcome to sit in my lap, and I’ll love on you and pet your pretty hair and tell you all about how amazing you looked takin’ all those cocks like a good boy.”

 

Genji makes a noise in his throat that’s bordering on obscene, and then he crawls into Jesse’s lap and rubs his face against Jesse’s chest like a cat.

 

“Go on,” Genji says, and Jesse sinks his fingers in the damp green tangle of his hair and hooks a hand under his knee, running a palm slowly up and down his thigh.

 

“There you go, baby.  Relax and let me take care of you a while.”

 

Genji drinks up Jesse’s praise like roots starved for rain, making helpless little noises when he says something that is both adoring and absolutely filthy at the same time, leaning into his every touch.  Jesse gives him sips of water. Takes a wet washcloth and wipes away some of the dried sweat from his skin, and cleans up the lube between his legs, shushing Genji when he shivers at the contact. 

 

_ Shhh, it’s okay baby, you’re alright. _

 

Several other subs come and go while he’s whispering soft in Genji’s ear, nosing through his hair, lavishing him with affection.  One of them gives Jesse a longing look— Jack spends a lot of time kneeling at Jesse’s feet after scenes with other Doms, head pillowed on his thigh as he drifts— but Baptiste is there to pick up Jesse’s slack, and from the dazed expression on Jack’s face when he cups his face and tells him he’s perfect, he’s not really suffering.  

 

A long time has passed when Genji finally sits up and stretches, bones cracking as he groans.  He throws a glance to the curtain separating them from the main floor, and Jesse brushes his hair out of his eyes.

 

“Ready to get back to it, sweetheart?”

 

Genji reaches for his hood, and passes it to Jesse, looking at him from underneath his lashes.  He eases closer, giving Jesse plenty of time to pull away, and presses a chaste kiss to his cheek.

 

“Carry me back out?”  Genji asks, and Jesse takes the hood and shakes it open.

 

“Of course.  Any particular place you’d like me to put you?”

 

Genji bites his lip and grins.

 

“You can put me anywhere you want me, cowboy.”

 

Jesse takes a deep breath, and lets it out slow.

 

“You’re fuckin’ killing me, baby.”

 

Genji laughs, and Jesse slips the hood over his head, fastening it shut at the bottom.  He picks Genji up again— he fits perfectly in his arms, relaxes into it like he was made for Jesse— and Jesse carries him back out onto the floor.  The bench he’d been on before is occupied, so Jesse takes him over to one of the bales of hay nestled next to a wooden pillar with a hook on it. He puts Genji on his knees facing the pillar, arms stretched over him as Jesse secures his cuffs to the hook.

 

Jesse eases his thighs further apart.  Runs his palms up them, taking his ass briefly in both hands and tugging his cheeks wide.  Genji mewls quietly, arching his hips to give Jesse a better view, fingers closing around the chain his cuffs are hanging from.  He’s still so loose; so open, a little swollen. He’ll be sore tomorrow; aching all over, walking gingerly. Sitting down oh-so-careful.

 

What Jesse wouldn’t give to be the one taking care of him.  Bathing him, and cooking for him, and working the knots out of his muscles.

 

Getting him off so many times he comes dry, and falls asleep in Jesse’s arms.  Well-fucked, and well-fed, and well spoiled.

 

Still, he’ll take what he can get.  Jesse digs his thumbs into the meat of Genji’s ass, leaning forward until he’s blanketing him, mouth right next to his ear.

 

“Goddamn  _ gorgeous.”   _ Genji whines, and ruts back into him; Jesse stands up and gives his ass a lazy smack before he steps away.  “Alright, sweetness. You have fun now, okay?”

 

Genji lets out an annoyed huff, but he nods, falling back into a more comfortable position.  

 

He only has a moment of rueful staring when Baptiste nudges Jesse’s shoulder with his own.

 

“Soldier boy said when you were done, he was done.  Wants to get on his knees for you a bit before he goes home.  Just whenever that guy is through with him is fine.”

 

Jack is in the larger set of stocks, a big burly Dom railing into him like he’s got something to prove.  Jesse watches him clench his hands into fists release them again and again, like he wishes he had something to hold onto.  Everything is supposed to be as anonymous as possible, but hood or no hood, it’s impossible to mistake Jack for anyone else.

 

Jesse knows all those scars by heart, at this point.  Has spent a long time tracing them, letting Jack trace his in turn.  He heads over and stands in front of him, reaching out to cup his face through the fabric of his hood.

 

“Soon as this gentleman is through having his fun I got ya, okay?”

 

Jack whimpers; nods, and leans into his hand, and yeah.

 

This is definitely Jesse’s favorite part.


	2. Bred

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a more explicit Jesse/Jack scene in this chapter, albeit very brief. Just an FYI.

Genji only has the enthusiasm for two more stallions to take their turns before he ends up tapping out.  One of the stable boys escorts him to the back— not Jesse, unfortunately, but they’re gentle and polite and they lead him through the door to the break room and sit him in a chair.  They slip off his hood and give him some water; it’s a giant of a man, white haired with a scar on his face. The Stable Master, if Genji remembers correctly. He asks if Genji needs anything, if he’d like help getting dressed, if he’s feeling alright.  This late in the scheme of things it’s a given he’s through for the night, and Genji assures him that he just needs his belongings and he’ll be on his way.

 

When he heads to go retrieve Genji’s things, Genji sees Jesse across the room, sitting on a chair with a sub kneeling between his feet.  There’s a plush kneeler underneath him, and he’s got his arms around Jesse’s waist, face shoved into his belly. His breathing is even enough that Genji thinks he’s sleeping, Jesse petting through his hair and murmuring softly to him.  Then he shifts in place and blinks his eyes open, drowsy and unseeing. He’s miles away, lost in the feeling of having been thoroughly used.

 

Lost in Jesse’s hands, and his thick drawl, and the hazy sensation of being looked after so sincerely.

 

Jesse catches Genji staring and winks, hands never stilling in the sub’s hair, lips still pouring out earnest praise.  

 

Genji dresses, and drinks another bottle of water, and slips out the back door.

 

He doesn’t want to intrude on another sub’s aftercare, and if he wants to see Jesse, he knows where to find him.

 

-

 

Genji doesn’t know where to find him.

 

He waits a couple of weeks and then returns to the club, eyes keen, restless like he’s back in Japan and out on clan business.

 

Like he’s on a hunt, except he’s not out for blood, and Jesse is nowhere to be seen.

 

_ He’s not working tonight,  _ they say, and he never seems to be working, but it feels creepy to ask when he’ll be there again so Genji doesn’t.  

 

Genji likes the anonymous parts of the club— the glory holes, and the dark rooms, and the stocks.  He makes use of them his first few visits, but the inevitable disappointment of not finding Jesse there starts to wear on him after a while, and Genji eventually stops trying.  There will be another Stallion Night in less than a month, and Jesse will probably be there like last time, wrapping subs up warm and safe in his arms and pouring honeyed words in their ears and holding them so close it feels like nothing else can touch them.

 

Genji doesn’t realize just how badly he wants that again, just how badly he wants  _ more,  _ until he shows up to the club three weeks later with his hood and his cuffs, gathered with the rest of the mares, and Jesse isn’t there.  The stable boys all introduce themselves— the same ones from before, except there is one in Jesse’s place this time, making his absence all the more glaring.  They go over the event rules, give instructions Genji has already heard, and make sure everyone is ready. 

 

The disappointment is something he can taste now, sour on his tongue, making his stomach churn.  He doesn’t like that someone can make him feel like this, but it’s been a long time since he wanted anything so intensely, and that, at least, is something all on its own.

 

Reinhardt secures Genji last, arms high over his head,  clipping his cuffs to a hook hanging from the ceiling and giving him a wink.

 

“Have fun tonight,” he says, and puts Genji’s hood on, patting his shoulder before he walks away.

 

Jesse isn’t there, and Genji wishes he was with a ferocity that has his chest hurting in unfamiliar ways, but he can think about that later.  

 

Nothing will distract him from his loneliness like a dozen rough, anonymous fucks.

 

It takes a few minutes before the doors open.  Reinhardt makes an announcement,  _ time to go to work, boys,  _ and then there’s a far away clicking noise, and a lot of new voices.  

 

The conversation builds louder as the stallions all filter into the area, boots clicking across the floor; Genji can feel them moving around nearby.

 

Can feel someone behind him, even before they run their gloved palm over his tattoo.  Whoever it is wraps their other arm around him, pulling Genji’s back flush against their chest, face tucked into Genji’s throat over his hood.

 

“Hey there, darlin’.  Fancy meetin’ you here.”

 

Genji smiles so wide in the dark of his hood that it hurts.

 

“Jesse,” he answers; breathless, speechless.

 

Genji wants to kiss him.

 

Jesse unfastens Genji’s cuffs and throws him over his shoulder like a warprize, carrying him towards the corner.  He’s on his hands and knees on one of the padded benches in an instant, Jesse’s fingers deft as they fasten his cuffs to the metal hooks on both sides.  Then Jesse stands behind him, hands on Genji’s hips as he blankets himself over him, mouth up by his ear again.

 

“I do like takin’ care of all these roughed up mares, but you’re so goddamn gorgeous, baby.  I couldn’t miss the chance to  _ breed  _ you.”

 

Genji’s breath hitches in his lungs.  He raises his hips as high as they’ll go, spine arched; he shoves into Jesse, wrist cuffs pulling as he reaches for him.

 

“Please,” he says, unashamed of the way he sounds.  Needy, and pathetic; Genji doesn’t care. 

 

Everything he’s been wanting from Jesse all these weeks…

 

This is so much better.

 

-

 

Genji opens for him beautifully.

 

He’s eager, and he’s shameless, and he’s not afraid to let Jesse hear him.  That’s good. Promising.

 

Jesse likes his boys loud and enthusiastic when he’s pulling them to pieces.

 

He takes his time working three gloved fingers into Genji, the black latex slick with lube.  Genji writhes on them, rocking back into his touch, cock hard and twitching in the condom Jesse put on him.  Everything has to be done safely tonight, and Jesse understands why, but it would still be nice to see him making a mess all over the leather.

 

Jesse would like to get him home, let him come all over the bench Jesse has there.  Rub it into his skin.

 

Make him lick it up.

 

He’s begging for Jesse fuck him already—  _ come on, cowboy, I need it, please—  _ but if Genji thinks Jesse’s gonna be done with him any time soon he’s sorely mistaken.  He slips a hand in between Genji and the bench, taking his cock in hand and working it in quick, rough strokes.  Finds Genji’s prostate and rubs deliberate circles over it, pressing down just hard enough to make him shake.

 

Genji comes, cock warm under Jesse’s palm as he fills up the condom, twitching through his climax.  Jesse waits for him to stop shivering and cleans him up, tossing the condom and wiping him down. 

 

Then he puts on his own and presses the swollen head of his cock against Genji, free hand laid flat on his lower back to hold him in place.

 

“Ready, baby?”  

 

Genji whimpers.

 

_ “Fuck yeah  _ I am,” he hisses, and Jesse likes that.

 

Likes his boys honest.  Likes them laid bare.

 

Jesse grins, and slides into him, and gives Genji everything he wants.  Fucks him slow, and then fast, and then slow again, until Genji is twisting underneath him and pulling on his cuffs and swearing loud.  His fists open and close, or cling to the wood of the bench, head thrashing. Jesse has to stop to put another condom on him when he gets hard again, and then he brings him up to the edge, and keeps him there.  Teases him until he’s begging mindlessly,  _ please please Jesse please,  _ every drag of Jesse’s cock making him whine.

 

They’ve drawn a bit of an audience, a handful of Doms standing around watching the two of them together.  They palm themselves through their clothes, one even easing his hand into his jeans to stroke himself. Jesse can’t fault them for it.

 

Genji is breathtaking like this.

 

When Jesse finally lets him come he’s trembling all over.  Chest heaving, body pliant. Jesse doesn’t stop fucking him.

 

Genji doesn’t want him to.

 

Jesse fucks him rough, and talks to him soft; tells Genji how well he’s taking his cock.  That he’s gorgeous— Jesse’s good boy.

 

_ Love those sounds you make, baby, let ‘em out for me. _

 

Genji does.

 

Jesse comes eventually, too.  Something that builds in him slow and overwhelms him, and Jesse grinds his way through it before pulling out with a sigh.  Genji twitches at the sudden emptiness, lifting his hips like he still wants more. Jesse retrieves the black marker from his pocket and draws a single, neat tally mark on Genji’s ass, giving it a light slap before cleaning himself off.  

 

Then Jesse trails his fingers up Genji’s spine, chuckling low when he arches into it.  

 

“Gonna let a few of these fellas get their hands on you.  Gonna stay with you and watch them breed you all the way open, then I’m gonna breed you again, ‘till you’re so fucked out you don’t know the difference.  Sound good, baby?”

 

Genji moans, and nods, and Jesse gestures at one of the waiting stallions.  He steps up at once, rolling on a condom and shoving in without preamble. This one isn’t chatty— pounds away at Genji in a punishing rhythm, all force and no finesse.  When he comes he absently pats Genji on the ass, gives Jesse a weary grin, and wanders off. Jesse puts a tally mark down on his behalf.

 

It’s what Genji would want.

 

The next Dom moves Genji.  He leads him across the floor with a hand on the back of his neck— Genji is a little unsteady, but not enough that Jesse is worried.  It’s probably more the inability to see than any kind of exhaustion on Genji’s part. The Dom fits his head and wrists in the stocks before stepping up behind him and fucking him slow and deep.  Genji’s still soft, oversensitive from his previous orgasms and breathing hard. Sweat shines on his skin.

 

He calls Jesse’s name every time the Dom thrusts particularly hard.  Jesse threads their fingers together to hold his hand, and he clings tight, listening to all the soft words Jesse whispers to him and mewling when the Dom finally finishes with a grunt and a slap to his outer thigh.  

 

“Good boy,” he says, and then heads over towards the bar.

 

Another stallion steps up in his place; kicks Genji’s feet further apart, and palms his ass, spreading his cheeks.  He lubes himself up and shoves into Genji, and Genji groans, and shivers, and takes it. 

 

After he pulls out he gives Jesse a wink, already looking around for another mare to tease.

 

Jesse is hard again, but the position Genji is in hardly looks comfortable, so he unlocks him from the stocks.  Carries him over to a hay bale and lays him on his back, bending his knees up next to his face and staring. Genji’s ass is slick and red and swollen.  Lube messy on his thighs and ass, shining on his boots. He’s flushed pink, breathing like he’s run a mile.

 

Jesse calls him precious and fucks him until he’s drooling, hood damp around his mouth, grabbing at Jesse with weak fingers.  He wraps his legs around Jesse’s back, boots digging into his spine to urge Jesse on. Genji comes this time, a weak dribble of fluid under the latex of his condom, voice raw from all the noise he’s been making.  Jesse doubts he’ll be able to talk tomorrow, nothing more than a hoarse croak or an achy little whisper every time he opens his mouth. That’s all right.

 

If everything goes according to plan, he’ll be there to make Genji tea.  Pour honey into it. Pet his hair and coax in into his mouth and shush him when he tries to overuse his voice.

 

Genji doesn’t ask for a break— has insisted he doesn’t need one every time Jesse asks—  but Jesse calls Rein over anyway, depositing Genji into his arms with a kiss to his shoulder.

 

“Go sit with my buddy Rein for a bit.  Get something to drink, catch your breath.  I’ll be waiting when you come back, yeah? And if you feel like calling it a night, that’s fine too.”

 

Genji squeezes his hand, and nods, and goes without protest.  Jesse’s already told Rein to make sure he doesn’t rush back out.  To get some fluids in him, get his breathing slowed down. Clean him up some, make sure he’s not hurting anywhere.  

 

Or not too much, anyway.

 

Jesse finds Jack in the crowd and puts him over his knee while he waits.  

 

It’s hard to make Jack come, sometimes— he’s got a crazy amount of stamina, and none of these stallions have been particularly interested in trying to get him off.  He’s so hard it looks painful, even after a Dom has just fucked his brains out, so Jesse fingers him exactly the way he likes; all four fingers down to the knuckle, hitting his prostate with vicious accuracy.  Strokes his cock just the wrong side of rough, and tells him all the things he likes to hear. Too soft for what he’s doing to Jack. Too sweet, too reverent.

 

Jack clutches at Jesse’s legs and comes so hard he stops breathing for a while, Jesse murmuring to him,  _ there you go, baby, I got you. _

 

_ Just like that. _

 

Jesse doesn’t need to see Jack’s face to know the kind of dopey smile he’s wearing when Jesse straps him back down on one of the breeding benches.  He kisses his spine right between his shoulder blades, _ always my good boy,  _ and heads over towards the break room door to wait for Genji.

 

Genji comes out still cradled in Rein’s arms, breathing steady, most of the flush faded from his skin.  Less shaky. Less overwhelmed.

 

It doesn’t last long.

 

Jesse puts him back on the padded breeding bench— it’s the easiest on a sub’s joints of all his options— and gets out of the way.

 

Another five Doms run through Genji by the time Jesse gets to him again.  

 

Jesse stares.  Watches him writhe and shudder underneath them, holding onto the bench, toes pointing like they’re curling in his boots.  Watches them tie him up with his hands over his head and take him standing, a hand hooked under one of his knees, palm curled around his throat from behind.   Watches them press him into a wall and fuck him against it, forearms flat on the wood and head lolling on his shoulders.

 

Watches Genji love every last second of it, moaning and begging and rocking into them for more.  

 

He’s one of the last mares in the paddock, most of the others having long since gone home.  Genji is laying facedown on a bale of hay when his last stallion is done with him, knees on a padded strip next to it, boneless and liquid.  They pull out, and walk away, nodding at Jesse with a knowing expression. 

 

He steps up behind him, going to his knees and grabbing Genji’s ass with both hands. 

 

“Hey there, sweetheart.  You feelin’ good, yeah?” 

 

Genji nods drunkenly, lifting his hips.  Not as high as before; a couple of inches is all he can muster at this point.  Jesse spreads his cheeks and looks at the obscene gape of his hole. It’s filthy with lube, inflamed and abused.  Jesse presses three fingers into him— Genji is loose around them, soft and open. He shakes, and groans, arching his spine a little more.  Tugs his arms underneath him to lift up on his elbows, head hanging forward.

 

Presenting, except he can barely hold the position.

 

Fucked out and destroyed, except he still wants Jesse.

 

“Wanna let me use this pretty ass one more time before you run off?”

 

Genji breathes out with a gasp.

 

_ “Please.” _

 

His voice is rough, barely there already.  He’s got eleven black tally marks inked into his ass.  Every inch of him shines with sweat. His thighs are trembling, and his chest is heaving.

 

Genji is beautifully devastated.

 

Jesse can’t help but take him.

 

He coaxes him up and sits on the hay bale, leaning back against the wooden pillar behind it and manhandling Genji carefully into his lap.  Jesse guides Genji’s arms around his neck. Tucks Genji’s face into his shoulder, pulls Genji’s legs around his hips. Jesse kisses his throat as he rolls on a condom, and presses into the silky wet clench of his hole. 

 

Jesse goes slow.  Goes easy. Genji can’t take much more than that right now, even if he thinks otherwise.  He presses kisses to his throat and shoulder, to his face through the fabric of his hood, whispering quiet words of praise.  Tells him all the things he’d like to do to him. How he’d kiss him for hours, suck him off until he was coming dry, eat him out until he cried.  

 

How he’d take care of him, feed him and wash him and wait on him hand and foot.  Give him everything he needed, as long as he needed it.

 

Genji sobs into his throat, cock soft where it’s pressed between them, quaking all over with Jesse’s every thrust.  It isn’t hard to get off again, even though Jesse’s already come twice.

 

It would be hard not to with Genji like this in his lap, broken down into pieces and holding on like Jesse’s all he needs.

 

Jesse buries himself deep, and comes, wishing with every warm burst that he was filling Genji up instead. 

 

Then he holds onto Genji, rocking him like he’s trying to put him to sleep, holding on tight.  He pulls back for a moment to extricate Genji’s arm, tugging his marker out of his pocket and taking off the cap with his teeth.  

 

Instead of another tally mark Jesse writes out his phone number on the inside of Genji’s arm.  Big numbers, inked thick and firm and certain. Jesse makes sure it’s dry before he wraps Genji up in him again, mouth pressed against his ear through the hood.

 

“That’s my number on your arm.  You ain’t gotta do nothing with it, if you don’t want, but I’d sure like to spend tomorrow lookin’ after you.  You give me a call, or send me a text, and I’ll come runnin’, yeah?” Genji nods. Makes a noise that might be an agreement.  “Alright. You want me to call one of the boys to take you back, or you wanna sit here with me awhile?” Genji’s grip on Jesse tightens, and Jesse kisses his shoulder.  “There’s my good boy. Thank you.”

 

Genji falls asleep. Jesse has to pass him off to Rein after making him promise he’d call Genji a taxi to get home.

 

On Jesse’s dime, of course.

 

Genji startles awake when he’s transferred, and when he settles against Rein’s chest Jesse kisses his shoulder, and squeezes his arm.

 

“Call me if you need me, baby.  Or if you just want me.”

 

It’s teasing, but only on the surface.  Both of them know better.

 

“Sure thing, cowboy.”

 

Then he’s gone into the break room, and there is no more reason for Jesse to stay.  He tells Baptiste goodbye, and waves to Lucio, and heads home.

 

-

 

Genji wakes up feeling like he’s been hit by a car.

 

He’s been hit by a car before.  He knows what it’s like. 

 

He’s sore all over, muscles protesting every movement like he’s taken a hell of a beating.  His neck hurts. His lower back, his knees, his wrists. His ass throbs when he rolls over, and his throat is raw and scratchy.  

 

He’s gloriously miserable, and he doesn’t regret a moment of it, but he is fragile and tender and utterly, brutally alone.  Jesse’s number is still on his forearm. He put it in his phone before he got dressed at the club the night before, but didn’t bother taking a shower when he got home.

 

Someone promised to give him a bath, after all.  He paws at his cell phone, and taps at Jesse’s name.  It only rings once.

 

“Hey there, stranger,” Jesse says, and Genji smiles into his pillows.

 

“Come keep your promises, cowboy.”

 

“Text me your address, and tell me what you wanna eat.  You allergic to anything, dollface? Hate to kill you with some peanuts or something after all that.”

 

Genji laughs and hangs up.

 

There’s a knock at his door an hour later, and he staggers to answer it with a grin.

 

It’s the last time his feet touch the ground all weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me nice things (no really, I need to hear nice things) or come yell at me on [twitter.](https://twitter.com/scifictioness?lang=en)

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me nice things, or come yell at me on [twitter.](https://twitter.com/scifictioness?lang=en)


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